


Virus

by devilishhsmile



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, IM REALLY SORRY FOR THIS, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Night Terrors, Sharpshooter Lance, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, did i mention slow burn yet, don't hate me, this might get intense, you can skip it though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishhsmile/pseuds/devilishhsmile
Summary: No one knows how it happened. The Virus hit overnight. It turned the people it infected into brain-dead creatures, hungry for human meat, and unable to be killed unless you get them in the brain.Daibazaal is a flourishing little community in the midst of all the madness, protected by a huge wall that encompasses it. When Lance finds himself thrust into the town after a brush with death, he's not prepared for the whirlwind of pain and chaos he's about to be in the middle of.A.K.A - the zombie apocalypse AU fic that nobody asked for.





	1. Pull The Trigger (Lance)

**Author's Note:**

> So...hi!  
> This is the first story I've ever posted on here. I've been writing for years, but never got the courage to actually post anything and finish it. So, hopefully I stick with this story and I don't give up on it!  
> This first chapter is really short. I could have continued to the next part, but it's late, and I think it would be better as a separate chapter. Hopefully that's alright!  
> These first few chapters will mainly be world building and setting up characters, so the real action won't start for a bit. But I promise there is a plot to this! I don't know how many chapters, but I'm feeling ambitious, so this will likely be a lengthy story. I hope you guys enjoy!

I’m fucked.

Completely and absolutely fucked.

I knew I was from the minute I left. I knew this part of town is riddled with the Infected, I knew I had no way to outrun them, I knew  _ exactly  _ what I was doing when I left the group.

I guess I’m just not as ready for it as I thought I was.

I know this is for the best. My leg is broken, and I’m pretty sure a couple of my ribs are too. All I’d do is slow Pidge and Hunk down if I’d stayed with them, and God knows I can’t be the one responsible for their deaths. And I would be, eventually, if I’d stayed - Pidge might complain, but I know she loves me. Hunk, too. They would  _ never,  _ not in a million years, leave me for dead. They’d stay and fight with me until the very end.

Which is why I had to leave, and why I’m currently stuck in the middle of a mostly-empty convenience store with no food, no water, and five bullets in my gun.

I can hear the Infected snarling outside. I know my shitty barricade won’t last long, and I don’t have the strength to fight back. Hell, I shouldn’t be fighting back. I left my friends to end it all, so I won’t be a liability. So I won’t get bitten.

So I won’t turn into one of  _ them.  _

I hear a crash somewhere close by, and the snarling gets louder. Great - they’ve broken the window. I’m  _ fucked. _

_ Sorry, Mr. Higher Power. _

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ll never get to see my family again. I’ll never get to see my friends,  _ Christ,  _ I didn’t get to say goodbye. They’ll have no idea where I am, where my body is. They won’t know what happened to me.

I don’t realise I’m crying until a tear falls onto the barrel of my gun. I have to admit, I’m shocked. I didn’t expect to cry. I thought I was a bit more prepared for my own death than I actually am.

I wonder how Pidge and Hunk are. I hope they’re okay, that they know I love them, and that they know I left for a damn good reason. I hope they realise I’m doing this for their safety. 

I hope they survive this fucking mess. 

Heaving a sigh, I press the barrel of my gun underneath my chin. My hands are shaking, but I can’t bring myself to really care. Not right now. The only important thing now is that I shoot myself before the Infected get to me. Logically, I know it won’t matter if they turn me - I’ll be brain-dead and I won’t know I’m killing and eating people. But for some reason, I just can’t let myself turn Infected. I can’t let myself become a brain-dead cannibalistic monster. I can’t bear to think that if I turn, I could end up being the Infected that kills my friends. That thought hurts too much.

I take another breath. Are the Infected getting closer? I can’t tell. Everything seems to be blurring together. The walls of the store seem to be closing in on me, and my chest feels tight, and I know I’m screaming out sobs but I can’t hear them. I can only feel the rawness of my throat, the burning behind my eyes, the wet spots on my cheek.

_ Count to three. It’ll be okay. _

_ Quick and painless. _

Another breath. My finger tightens slightly around the trigger. I send a quick prayer out to whoever the hell is out there.

Three.

Two.

One.

_ Bang. _

Silence. Then-

“Hey, you!”

I open my eyes, staring shell shocked down at the gun still in my hands. 

_ I never pulled the trigger. _

“Dude!”

I look to the source of the voice and see a guy standing above me, with a - holy shit, he has a  _ fucking katana in his hands _ . The lower half of his face is obscured by a red bandana tied around it, but urgency shines in his eyes.

“Get up!” he commands, and my eyes just widen more. 

Around me, I can see other people - they’re all fighting the Infected. One has a gun, but the rest have melee weapons.  _ Smart,  _ I think. The guns will just draw more Infected. They seem to like noise.

“Did you fucking hear me? I said get up!” The guy screams at me, thick brows pulling together in a scowl. 

“Am I dead?” I ask dumbly, and yeah, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say, because the look the guy gives me next almost makes me  _ wish  _ I was dead.

“You will be soon, if you don’t get your ass off the ground!”

Now, I’m not really an idiot. I can usually tell if I push myself too far, or if I push someone else too far. I know my limits, and I know how to handle other people’s.

That being said, I forget I have multiple broken bones, and the quickness in which I push myself off of the ground makes me dizzy.

“Hey, man, are you okay?”

I faintly hear Red Bandana Guy’s words. My gun clatters to the floor, and I feel myself falling, falling-

I feel two strong arms wrap around me before I hit the ground, and the world goes black. 


	2. Freight Train (Lance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance is very injured, and a handsome stranger invites him to stay in their city. Can he be trusted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised this chapter yesterday, but I had to chose between staying up to write or sleeping, and well...sleep won out in the end.  
> Unfortunately it's not much longer than the first, but as we get more into the story, I promise the chapters will lengthen! Right now I have to get through all the more 'boring' parts, so that's why they end up being a bit more short. Bear with me for now, I still don't have a proper plan for this thing.  
> Thank you to the few of you who have read/bookmarked/left kudos! I really appreciate it :)  
> I plan for the next chapter to be out by the end of the week, so stay tuned! We're in for a wild ride.  
> Enjoy!

The only word I know when I wake up is _pain._

It feels like I’ve been run over by a freight train. And that’s not an exaggeration, mind you. I wonder (briefly) if I _did_ die - my ribs feel like they’ve been shattered to bits, and my tongue feels dry and heavy, and I can’t feel my left leg - but the rational part of my brain wins out in the end, and I come to the conclusion that I am still very much alive.

Despite all the pain, I decide to push myself up in a sitting position. This quickly turns out to be a bad idea, black spots dancing at the edge of my vision as I feel myself starting to lose consciousness.

However, I am a badass, so I manage to clear my vision and _not_ pass out like a wuss.

That’s when I notice my surroundings. I’m in a bed - a bed in a strangely clean bedroom. The walls are clean and plain, the bedsheets are way too crisp, and I’m seriously starting to doubt the rational part of my mind because there is _no way in Hell_ that a place can be this clean in the middle of the apocalypse.

I pinch myself. Hard. And yes, I can still feel pain (as if the aches all over my body weren’t enough to prove that fact), and I’m not dreaming, so the thoughts of death recede to the back of my mind for the time being. In order to distract myself, I focus on the contents of the room, and-

_Woah._

The room is _loaded_ with various medical supplies. I see normal things, like bandages and antibiotics and pain meds, but I also see more intense things. Surgical tools, IV bags with various fluids, stethoscopes, and various other tools that I can’t name. I can’t even imagine how this stash came to be! Either someone raided a hospital and knew exactly what to get, or there’s a real doctor here…

Wherever I am.

Which brings me to my next question: where the _fuck_ am I?

I vaguely remember being stuck in the convenience store. The Red Bandana Guy yelling at me. Someone catching me as I fell. But other than that, my mind is unhelpfully fuzzy. So I have no idea where I am, and no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know a handful of things for certain.

  1. I am not dead.
  2. My body feels like it’s been dragged through Hell and back.
  3. I am so fucking hungry.



I’m contemplating the dangers of just getting the fuck out of this room, when the door opens in front of me.

“Good. You’re awake. I was beginning to worry.”

The man standing in front of me is a stranger. I don’t remember him at the convenience store (he’s definitely _not_ Red Bandana). At this moment, I’m glad I didn’t try to leave this room, because this guy…

He’s fucking ripped. I swear, his muscles are trying to bulge out of that tight ass shirt. When he crosses his arms in front of his chest, he involuntarily flexes, and I have a momentary feeling of panic, because he could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat.

Sweet Jesus.

“Uh,” I say smartly, because it’s probably the only sound I can manage at this point

I am so fucked.

The man’s lips quirk up in slight amusement. I should probably feel relaxed by that, because it might mean he won’t kill me, but I find myself tensing still.

At that point, my stomach choses to growl. Loudly. The amused smile on the man’s face grows wider, and now I would totally surrender if he wanted to snap my neck.

“Hungry?” He asks, and there’s a kindness in his voice that sets me more on edge. Is he trying to seem kind to have me let my guard down? Is he going to eat me? Is he part of some Satanic cult?

Hunk and Pidge and I ran into some odd people on the road, so at this point I wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Um…”

“I’m Shiro, by the way,” he tells me, holding out a (very large) hand for me to shake. I take it gingerly, ignoring the pain that spikes across my side as I lean forwards.

“Uh, Lance. I’m Lance.”

“Nice to meet you, Lance,” Shiro says, and the kindness in his voice is really starting to get under my skin.

“What….” I clear my throat, surprised by how hoarse my voice seems to be. “What happened?”

“Our men found you in a store. You’re pretty badly injured. You fainted when you stood, and you were carried here.”

Right. Makes sense. I could have figured that out on my own. Thanks for nothing.

“Where is here, exactly?”

The man spreads his arms, a small and proud little smile on his face. “Welcome to Daibazaal.”

I frown, my nose wrinkling a bit. “Die-ba-what now?”

Shiro just snorts, like he’s used to this. “Daibazaal. It’s a small, protected town on the outskirts of the city. We have roughly one hundred people living here.”

I widen my eyes at his words. _One hundred?_

He seems to notice my expression, and his lips quirk up again. He doesn’t comment, however.

My stomach growls again, and Shiro’s face switches from slightly amused to all business in a matter of milliseconds.

“Right. So, in case you weren’t aware, you’re very injured.”

“No shit,” I murmur under my breath. He raises an eyebrow slightly, but again, refrains from commenting. I hope I didn’t offend him. I really don’t want to fall victim to a cannibal or a Satanist today.

His eyebrow falls and he continues.

“You seem to have two broken ribs and a broken leg. We think you might be suffering very mild internal bleeding, but from what our medic says, it isn’t too serious. We’ll monitor it for now and make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”

At the use of the word ‘medic’ my mind immediately goes to Hunk, and I have to force away the budding sadness that rises like bile in my throat.

“Monitor?” I ask cautiously. I’m not entirely an idiot. In this world, people don’t give free handouts. If someone offers you something, it means they want something in return. Even with this guy’s easy smiles and generally friendly demeanor, I can’t trust him.

“I don’t have anything to offer as payment,” I say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. I don’t think it works, if the frown on Shiro’s face is anything to go by, but he doesn’t seem angry.

“We don’t ask payment.”

“So are you going to eat me?”

At this, Shiro looks genuinely confused. “Um, what?”

I press harder. “I’m not a dumbass. I’ve lived on the streets for a couple months. I know that when someone offers me something kind, it means they want something in return. Or they’re trying to gain my trust so it’s easier for them to kill and eat me.”

If I felt more like my normal self, I might laugh at Shiro’s now-blanched face.

“Did you…” he starts, hesitating a bit before continuing. “Did you meet...cannibals?”

I only shrug. “I think so. They didn’t eat us- uh, me, so I can’t be sure.”

The guy kindly brushes past my misspeak. “Well, no, we aren’t cannibals. But you’re right, we won’t do this for free.”

“What’s the price?” _Please don’t say my body._

“It’s not really a price. You see, we don’t just let people into Daibazaal without a proper screening. If you agree to our help, we’ll take you to our captain. He’ll give you an interview and a basic aptitude test. If you pass, you’re able to stay as a citizen of Daibazaal, as long as you contribute something useful.”

I don’t really like the tone of his voice. “And if I don’t pass? Or if I refuse?”

Shrio sets his jaw. “If you don’t pass, I’m sure we’ll still heal you and give you a day’s worth of supplies, but you’ll be kicked out and never allowed to return. If you refuse, we’ll kick you out without giving you anything to help. It’s your choice, Lance.”

Yeah, sure, like they’ve really given me much of a choice. What am I supposed to do, refuse the offer of supplies and healing? Or a potential place to stay? If they really can heal me, I won’t be a burden here. Maybe I can even get close to some of the members, or the captain, and convince them to help me go search for Pidge and Hunk. They can join this community with me, and we’d be _safe._ For once.

“I’ll agree to an interview,” I say, with more determination than I thought I was capable of feeling at the moment.

Shiro genuinely smiles then, and he looks a lot younger than he did just a few seconds ago. “Great! You made a good choice, Lance. I’ll be back in half an hour with some food and water, as well as our medic.” Shiro’s smile grows a bit, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Captain Zarkon will meet with you within the week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know how to add links to the notes sections (if someone could leave me a comment and tell me how, that would be appreciated!) but feel free to follow my social media or send me a message! You can ask about this fic, or we can cry about Voltron together.  
> My Instagram: @cryptidsarereal  
> My Twitter: @devilishhsmile


	3. Complications (Lance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medical talk and warm soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...hi guys.   
> I want to apologise for not posting this last weekend when I said I would. And for this chapter being so short. I could have made it longer, but then it would have taken longer for me to post, and I just wanted to get something posted today. I'll explain more at the end of the story.  
> For now, enjoy!

True to his word, Shiro comes back later with a bowl of some sort of soup, a glass of water, and the medic following behind him. 

I’ve never been happier to see soup in my life. Shiro hands me the bowl as he talks to the lady about my condition and where they found me (he kindly avoids the part where I was sobbing like a child with my gun pressed to my head), and I sit up slightly to take the bowl.

For some reason, I feel like crying - whether out of pain from my movements or out of happiness for the feel of a warm bowl of soup in my hands, I’m not sure - but I focus on bringing the spoon up to my lips and sipping some of the broth.

“Oh,  _ Sweet Jesus, _ ” I half-whisper, half-moan, unable to contain the words. The soup is so  _ warm.  _ The last thing I remember eating was a can of dog food that I split with Hunk and Pidge, so the feeling of the soup warming my throat is pretty much orgasmic.

Then I realise Shiro’s looking at me with something akin to amusement, and I have to duck my head to hide the embarrassment. 

“Good?” He asks, making conversation with me while the medic lady checks over my bandages. She hasn’t said a word to me since she entered the room, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m a little scared. She’s dressed casually enough, but the hood she wears obscures the top half of her face, and not being able to see her eyes is a little...unnerving.

Of course, I’m probably just being paranoid. Again.

I nod in response to Shiro’s question, sipping some more broth. “I haven’t had anything warm to eat in, like, a month.”

The amusement in Shiro’s eyes grows. “What about a shower?”

His words make me snort, and I choke slightly on the sip of broth I’d just taken. After I get the coughing down a bit (wow, I’m really embarrassing myself today), I look at him incredulously.

“Uh, not since the Incident?” 

It’s then that I notice that Shiro looks…very clean. Not just like he bathed in a river, either. Like...he looks like he recently showered. I furrow my brows.

“We have showers here in Daibazaal,” Shiro states proudly, smiling a bit. “Since you agreed to the interview, you’ll be allowed a shower before you meet with Captain Zarkon.”  

I widen my eyes, the spoon falling out of my hands and plopping in the bowl, and it takes all my effort not to scream in joy. Is Mr. Higher Power fucking with me right now?

“Am I in a coma and this is all just a dream?” I wonder aloud, and I think I hear the medic chuckle. She’s now checking over the IV bags in the corner of the room.

Shiro definitely does chuckle, and he shakes his head. “This is real, Lance. Another perk of being a member of Daibazaal is that you get shower privileges twice a week. Not including any time you go out on a mission, because then you’ll get to shower right when you get back.”

A very unmanly squeal escapes from my lips, and Shiro just chuckles more. I know I probably shouldn’t trust these people, but it’s hard not to. At least with Shiro. He has genuine happiness for things still, and his eyes seem perpetually hopeful. I may not be able to fully trust him yet, but I hope that light in his eyes doesn’t dim. No one deserves that.

“Lieutenant?” The medic calls, still by the IVs, and Shiro turns towards her.

“Yeah?”

“We have a slight problem.” Gesturing to the IVs, the medic continues. “We’re out of Caldolor. I wanted to give that to him until we could get a team out to the stores. We have ibuprofen pills, but he’ll need that plus paracetamol.”

“Shit,” Shiro starts to say, and I try to listen to their conversations, but my body decided to take this time to bloom with almost excruciating pain. My leg goes numb and tingly, but the injured part of my ribs  _ hurt.  _ I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from screaming.

And, of course, as if it couldn’t get any worse, the soup decides it doesn’t want to stay down anymore. I turn my head as quickly as I can and promptly vomit on the floor. 

My head spins. I want to sleep.

The last thing I hear before passing out is the medic lady saying, “Get Keith.”

Then blackness envelops me, and the pain disappears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post last weekend, but I ended up hating the draft of the chapter I made. I'm not super proud of this one, either, but like I said, I just wanted to get something out for you guys.   
> I don't normally write in first-person, or in present tense. The majority of my stories are in third-person and past tense. Writing in first person is really different for me. I wanted a challenge, of course, which is also why I decided to post this. To challenge myself and get better at writing, since I've been doing it for years. But unfortunately, the challenge also made me have a slight bout of writer's block. The fear of publishing my work online instead of having no-one read them also contributed to that, and that's why I didn't post.  
> This chapter was written today. I literally just finished it. I wanted it to be longer, but I have a massive headache, and the writer's block is still there. I just had to push through it in order to get something out to you guys.  
> If you read this far, thank you. Thanks for reading, bookmarking, and leaving kudos. Comments are always appreciated! If you don't know what to comment, say something you liked about this chapter! Kind comments really give us authors something to look forward to, and a reason to post. Knowing people like my lame story would be amazing.  
> As always, feel free to follow me on social media!  
> Insta (very active) : @cryptidsarereal  
> Twitter (not very active) : @devilishhsmile  
> Tumblr (not active, but you can message me!): @thesongsthatwewrote  
> Thank you guys, again, for reading my simple little fic. <3 It means a lot.


	4. Hothead (Keith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missions and stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...long time no see.  
>  I have no good excuse for updating so late. Especially because I feel like this chapter is a bit rushed and somewhat short. It's just that over the summer my mental health was absolute shit, and when school started for me I was so stressed I could barely focus on writing this.   
> It's my last year of high school, which is making me nervous, because I'll be an official adult next year and that is terrifying.  
> Again, I'm so so so sorry for this being so late.  
> I'll try to update more frequently but I can't promise anything...  
> Thank you guys for reading!!  
> <3

“Sloppy. Do it again.”

I grit my teeth and I have to bite back a retort, gripping the dagger in my hand tighter. I can’t afford to piss off Iverson, no matter how much I want to punch him in the fucking face.

“Yes sir,” I say, with just a hint of snark, and I raise the dagger again.

He’s set up a training area, in order to keep us fit for future missions. We can’t afford to have runners be physically incapable of completing their jobs. It’s a good idea, but when I have to train with Iverson, I find it difficult to watch my tongue sometimes.

Iverson holds his own dagger - today we’re focusing on how to fight against a living threat, because us runners have met  _ plenty  _ while on missions. We’ve lost people because of it, and once the losses became too much, Zarkon ordered Iverson to train us in melee combat. 

He swings at me, and I’m able to knock his dagger out of the way, almost making him lose his hold on it. Unfortunately, he keeps his grip, and he swings at me again - this time lower, more towards my abdomen. I dodge to the side, spinning around and quickly grabbing him, holding my knife to his throat with one hand and taking his own knife from him with my other, watching it clatter to the ground.

“Much better, Keith,” Iverson says. “I think we’re done for today.”

Thank God. We’ve been training since dawn, and I desperately need a shower.

Before I can get to the showers, I hear someone call my name. 

“Keith!”

I turn around to see Shiro running at me with a sense of urgency that makes me wary. 

“We need you to go an impromptu mission,” Shiro tells me once he reaches me, panting a little bit from the run. “Haggar needs some meds that we don’t have.”

“Am I going alone?” I ask him, and he shakes his head. 

“No. You’ll go with Alfor. He’s been itching to go on a mission for a while now, and he knows of a hospital a few miles out that you guys can drive to.”

Alfor is probably around Zarkon’s age, though with a lot more grey in his hair. He’s pretty much Zarkon’s right-hand man, and though he’s not an official runner, he does go on missions from time to time. For someone of his age, he’s incredibly fit and fast on his feet, so I’m grateful I can go with him instead of some of the other (more incompetent) runners. 

“Alright. What’s the medicine for?”

“That guy we found. Lance.” Shiro looks over in the direction of the infirmary, a slightly worried look plastered on his face. “He’s...not doing too well.”

I remember the guy. He had a gun to his head and he was sobbing so hard I felt a little bit bad for him. It was Allura’s idea to save him and bring him back to the camp - and as she’s Alfor’s daughter, she has a lot of authority over the rest of us.

Plus I’d feel like a dick if I just left the guy to kill himself.

“What does he need?”

“An IV of Caldolor, and ibuprofen and paracetamol pills. I’ve given Alfor a list of the medicine in case you don’t remember. Try to get as much as you can. Haggar isn’t sure how much he’ll need.”

I nod. “I’ll go get ready. Is Alfor getting the supplies?”

It’s a rule that all runners need specific supplies for their missions, and what they get depends on the mission. The basic things we’ll need are some snacks in case we’re out for a long time, guns and extra ammo, some sort of melee weapon for each person, and bottles of water. Some runners bring blankets and/or camping gear in case they get stranded and have to stay overnight, but I doubt we’ll have to. It shouldn’t be that hard of a mission.

“Yeah, he is.”

I nod again. I suppose this means I’ll have to wait until after the mission to shower - which sort of sucks, but I’ll deal - so instead I just wave bye to Shiro and head to the apartment to get changed into more suitable clothing.

 

-

 

It’s not long before I meet up with Alfor by the gate. He’s already loading supplies into the car, and i clear my throat to make him aware of my presence. 

He turns around and offers me a somewhat tired smile. “Hey there. You ready?”

“Sure am.” I move to start helping him put the last of the supplies in the car, before we both enter. Alfor starts the car, and I wave to the two men guarding the gate to let them know we’re about to leave. They wave back in acknowledgment, check over the wall to make sure the coast is clear, before opening the gate to let us out.

The drive to the hospital is relatively quiet. I’m not the best at socializing, and Alfor seems to be lost in thought. He has a distant look to his eyes, which I kind of want to bring up - but it’s not like I know him very well, and I don’t want to pry into anything that’s none of my business.

“Have you seen the guy we rescued yet?” Alfor asks abruptly, breaking the slightly awkward silence. I just shrug and shake my head.

“No, not yet,” I tell him, pushing my bangs back out of my eyes. “Why?”

“I was just curious about his condition. Haggar mentioned he was very unhealthy.” He hums in thought before continuing. “I’m just worried his condition will put a negative impact on his interview with Zarkon.”

“He’s that bad?”

“From what I’ve heard.”

I frown. “Well, he’ll have to fully heal before he meets with Zarkon, right?”

Alfor hesitates slightly, and I know by that that the answer won’t be good. 

“Zarkon...he doesn’t want to waste resources if the guy isn’t a good fit for us. So he wants to see the guy within the week.”

“So...if he’s not a good fit, then what?”

“I presume Zarkon will kick him out and leave him to fend for himself. We might give him basic supplies, but…” Alfor sighs heavily, leaning back more in his seat. “I’m worried for him. I don’t want to just leave someone in his condition out there with limited supplies and no protection.”

I agree with him, of course, but...I can see Zarkon’s point. Supplies are limited as it is - we’ve raided most (if not all) of the stores in the area, and they’ve started to run out of the things we need. If we waited until this guy healed, which could take months probably, that would be a huge hit to our supplies. And if he turned out not to be a good fit, then we’d have wasted all these supplies on the guy.

But I don’t agree with just...kicking him out. That seems like it would be way too cruel. Especially to someone in his state.

“That doesn’t seem too fair,” I point out. Alfor hums and nods.

“Of course. Because it isn’t.” He lets out a heavy sigh, and I have to remind myself just how worn out he must be - being Zarkon’s right-hand-man isn’t easy, and Alfor isn’t as young as he seems. He’s been a part of Daibazaal for way longer than I’ve been here, and I’ve heard tales - horror stories, really - of the early days, when the Wall was still being built and the hordes of the Infected were more numerous than they are today. 

I can only imagine how tough things are for him.

(People rumor that his hair is fully white because of the stress, which I can see).

“But there’s no negotiation with Zarkon right now.”

I frown, turning in my seat to better face Alfor. “Why’s that?”

The man sighs again, and uses one hand to steer while he rubs his forehead with the other. “Zarkon is...out of sorts, at the moment. I presume he’s sick, since he’s been seeing Haggar a lot more recently, but…”

“Is he violent?”

Alfor hesitates just a split second too long. “No.”

I don’t press it. 

 

-

 

When we get to the hospital, there’s very little Infected, which is very lucky for us. Alfor says we need to get more ammo soon - but that’s a mission for another day.

It doesn’t take too long to get the supplies we need. It is a bit difficult to find ibuprofen - it’s something a lot of people probably stocked up on when the apocalypse actually hit - but after a bit, I finally find it.

Alfor finds the other two medicines faster than I find the ibuprofen, but a mere twenty minutes later we are back on the road and heading back to camp.

It’s quiet during the trip. I’ve never been very talkative, and Alfor definitely has other things on his mind. Being the leader is probably very stressful. I don’t know how he handles it, but he does a great job. I’ve never met someone I respected more.

Well, other than Shiro I suppose. But I’m biased in that.

Once we do get back, and the person guarding the gate opens it for us, I immediately leave for a shower - I’m gross after training - but before I can even go inside, I’m stopped by someone.

Haggar.

“We need more help,” she says, and her voice is jarring from how raspy it is. I wonder if she’s okay.

“With?”

“The kid. Lance. He’s…” she hesitates, and continues. “We need someone to hold him down. And I can’t find Shirogane.”

And as much as I want to shower, I should help. I can’t leave Haggar to fend for herself.

Taking a deep breath, I walk to the infirmary with her - and once I see the state the guy is in, I panic.

Because it looks like he’s turning.


End file.
